


Alone is What I Have

by shewasabadgirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15504921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasabadgirl/pseuds/shewasabadgirl
Summary: A little cute fic about how John tempted Sherlock out of hiding and all how broke loose (including gunfight) than made okay again fic. Written in the long wait after The Reichenbach Fall.





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock opened his eyes. He squinted. He's still in his childhood bedroom. Boring! The sunlight seeps in through the curtains. He almost hissed at it. Everything's nice and quite. A sharp contract with his dream which all that's left is an impression of shouting and chaos, It kept on buzzing inside his head. Familiar and far away. Painfully. He tried to remember the thing he was thinking before he dozed off. He couldn't. Annoying.He's going slow. It's been happening a lot recently. Nevermind. Most important thing first

Sherlock sat in front of his computer. His slender fingers typed out the website  address almost on their own. He uses no bookmarks. clears his internet history, input historey or whatever else that might give anything away. Though It's basically impossible for anyone to pock around on his computer. Mycroft had installed all kinds of security software on it after Sherlock "died". Sherlock then got rid of all those and did a thorough set up himself.

He stared at the newets entry. Feeling his head went short circuit.

No, John is doing that thing again.

No, what if he means it this time?

asdfdklajfgna

lasdfkadl;fsakdf----asdflkn

Things that people do when they want to express something, but don't know how, or for some reason don't want to but subconsciously still want to. Sherlock frowned at this.

Now Mycroft I am sure your fat brain is perfectly able to come up with contradict ideas but my John-

Greag Lestrade frowned and looked offened. So Sherlock shut up. Special time calls for special measures. He relies on Greg for information. John-wise and case-wise (which, in turn, was information passed on by Mycroft. But Sherlock ignores that part, naturally). And it's not like he didn't rely on Greg for cases, and, therefore, sanity before. But Sherlock didn't need him in the past. Obviously.

The thing is. After Sherlock had "died", John stopped updating his blogs for a while. Not too long. But long enough for Sherlock to panic. John is addicted to his blog. Something is seriously wrong. After his "funeral", Mycroft (and basically everyone else, Sherlock suspected Mycroft threw everyone a cake party behind his back, and promised them unlimited supplies of any cake from any country they wish, to turn them against him) had banned him from sneaking out to see John again. They simply don't trust him. John would be on his side and help him go out, to see John.

But then John started writing again. Like the things he wrote before he started being HIS BLOGGER. Random things happening in his life."An old lady stared at me on the street. Like I'm a skull or something. Someone compared me to one one time. Then it never stopped haunting how people see me."

"Stopped going to the psychiatrist. Sometimes I just want to bite her. She doesn't understand. But I'm a reserved person, you know. Unlike some people. Can't live a second without blasting what's on their mind out. But you know what, that one time that person actually bottles something... Bastard."

"Did John get angry with his computer half way through typing?" Sherlock asks the Holmes-Lestrades, all puzzled. After all reassuring words failed and Sherlock threatened to break out of the house, Mycroft's monitor footage show John all calm and sane when he types. The only change in his expression is his forrowing his brows when he can't find a letter on the keyboard. (How adorable.)

So at last Sherlock learns that, one, John is just crying for attention; two, that doesn't necessarily mean John knows or is still convinced he is alinve. Sometimes people just do that when they are lonely, pretending there's someone reading. It makes them feel better. Three, there is nothing wrong with John. Four, Sherlock should not do anything. Five, not even leaving the slightest trace he's reading Dr. Watson's blog

Sherlock doesn't need telling the last two. He takes careful measure to make sure the blog's click count is still jammed. And Mycroft makes sure there is no way the traffic in and out of the website can be recorded or tracked.

After Sherlock spent the first week of his "death" doing nothing but staring at the monitor stream of 221B, showing no interest in eating, sleeping, or doing anything productive (much worse than his usual standards), not even glancing at the files Lestrade took him to pass time, Mycroft banned him from watching it and cut off the streaming from his computer. Sherlock sulked and showed no dffort to sustain life afterwards for a week. Then tried to regain access and sneak out to stalk John for several. Until John started updating his blog again.

Sherlock continued to stare at the most recent entry, not even blinking. His mind blank or fused with everything it basically shut down. He did the only thing he knew. Though he would never admit it.

"MYCROFT!!!" He shouted. A special mixture of hate and I-don't-care and upset and wronged and need and respect and pout. "MYYYYYYCROOOOOOFT!!!" But the government man is not home. No one's home.

With shaky fingers, Sherlock typed through the mist, the second thing his mind come up with.

"Wrong. Friends protect people."

Mycroft was only alerted in time to switch off Sherlock's name before the submissionis processed.  
S John Watson's blog, the one no one reads ever again, now has one anonymous comment sitting on it.

John smiles. He knew perfectly well who this anon is.

Win


	2. Chapter 2

“Sherlock Holemes! What the hell was that about?" Mycroft slammed the front door close loudly and shouted in the general direction of Sherlock's room. There didn't come any response. And Mycroft wasn't expecting any.He ran up the flight of staris, making as much noise as possible. It's quite difficult, actually, what with the thick carpet. But Mycroft had been perfecting this art for years and years. The whole second fllor shook under his footstep

Sherlock's door was open for a fraction. Mycroft burst in, the door collided with the wall loudly and bounced back a bit

Sherlock was sitting on his chair, literally on it, his arm around his knees, his long legs tucked under his chin. He's shivering. Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock," Mycroft kept his voice slow and patient. Sherlock remained silent, but his lips were pursed tight together. "Sherlock, I asked you a question." Mycroft sometimes think if he ever gets tired of being the government, he could own a kindergarten, to put all his experience of dealing with troubling children into good use.

Sherlock murmered something. It was then that Mycroft realized how Sherlock  trying to control his lips from trembling too much. His brother　was on the verge of tears

"Sorry what was that?" Mycroft could not keep the mix of accusation and exaperation from his voice though, more out of habit if anything. He don't know how to talk natrually when Sherlock is in the room.

"I called you four hours ago." Sherlock mumbled. His voice croaked.

Mycroft made himself seated on the other chair in the room. "I wasn't home." He said. "So it is your fault." Sherlocked spitted every word out through clenched teeth. "You could have called me, as in using the phone."  Mycroft replied in his usual voice. Sherlock turned his head away to show he's not listening to whatever Mycroft says. Or he's probably just hiding his tears.

"Now Sherlock-" Mycroft shifts in the chair to make himself more comfortable. This is going to take quite a while. "Will he be safe?" Sherlock interrupted. Now this is new. Mycroft looked up and found Sherlock staring at him. His supposed to be cold and IDGAF eyes a bit too red and watery. "Due to what you did, Sherlock, things had gotten-"

"He will be safe!" Sherlock shouts over him. Mycroft knows that expression. It means Sherlock had gone through all the possibilities and all the processions and sloutions respectively and had reached his conclusion. And he, Mycroft Holmes, is responsible for moaking that conclusion a reality. Because he is Mycroft, his brother. This is what he does.

Mycroft heaved a deep sigh. Then stood back up to perform his duty.

"And Sherlock?" He turned back when he reached the door and told the back of his little brother's head. "No internet for you for a week." He closed the door behind him and left. He could feel Sherlock's glare when he's inside his limo once more, and was pleasantly surprised he didn't hear anything breaking when he got into it. (Guns were banned on the second day.

Grey Lestrade, meanwhile, was having tea with a certain Dr. Watson in the cafe on Baker St. He once felt quite guilty about how a large amount of his time and energy was now spent on secretly making sure everything's boring in John Watson's life. But Mycroft had reassured him that, wherever Sherlock and John's concerned,the national safety was at stake also. So he's definitely still doing his job. Greg vaguely wondered how many times had Mycroft told himself that. But Mycroft then went on to distract him by doing something that made Sherlock eye them very strangely the next day. He could feel his smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth whenever his conscious was a bit uneasy. Mycroft does know how to sort everything out.

John Watson seemed to be expecting someone when he called upon 221B. His face fell considerably when he opened the door and saw the detective inspector.

"Hello Greg. What a surprise." John nodded at him curtly. "I jsut...happened to drive past. Thought I'd see how you're doing." Greg found it very hard to look into John's eyes. He's sure him and John both know why they are both here. But no one is going to blow that pretence

"Shouldn't you be busy this time of the day?" John was looking at him a little too intensely. "Nah, everything's under control for the moment." Greg said. "Let's have something downstairs?"

Greg was glad he could now focus on stirring his tea instead of looking at John. They quickly ran out of small talks. Greg searched every where in side him for something else to say. He glanced at his watch. Mycroft's security men should be done upleveling the house in about five minutes. He might just see this out

"Have you still got your gun, John?" He said casually.

"What?" John nealy chocked on his tea. Then he mentally kicked himself. His life had been boring for too long. He's becoming easily surprised. It's not a good sign. Greg smiled at him knowingly. "Don't worry. Um...It's still in good condition? You got enough bullets and stuff? Need anything else?" John's jaw dropped down. "Um...No. It's fine." He finally said. "All Fine." Greg nodded. "That's good." Greg said. He slipped something underneath John's palm. "Keep it. Just in case." Greg laughed nervously. His guilty conscious creeping back up again. John looked at him, eyebrow raised. Greg nods at him, encouragingly. Behind John, out on the street he could see a black car driving away. He couldn't wait to fall back into a lump of misery and exaperation in his office. And for Mycroft to make it up to him for his troubles. Though he knew he might wait for a long while for that. "Take care, then." he said. He stood up to leave. "Oh and Greg?" John stopped him, still seated. Greg looked at him. "How's Sherlock?" It took all his years' experience as a detective not to give away anything on his face. "Still dead." He said. John nodded. "See you around."  

Neither Greg nor Mycroft showed up by dinner time that night. So Sherlock didn't have any dinner. He knew it's been done. He could smell it. The people working at the house knew better then going up and inform Sherlock about meaks. They just do their work and leave in silence.

When midnight came and there was still not a stir in the house, Sherlock stepped down from his chair. His stomach and chest immediately protested for the loss. Sherlock tiptoed to the window and peeped outside from between the curtains. Completely deserted. He sat down properly in front of his computer and tried to find a way around his internet cut off. No luck. He pulled out his phone and tried, no internet connection either. Sherlocked roared and threw his phone against the wall. That's it. He's going out. And no one is going to stop him.

Sherlock went into the in-siote bathroom for a quick wash, changed out of his pajamas and put on his coat. He turned the door handle of his bedroom.. It's locked. So he was not supposed to be served dinner that night anyway.Sherlock snorted. Childish. Like that would stop him. But Sherlock knew better then to pick the lock. He learnt months ago that it's not pickable, and it's connected to an alarm system linked to Mycroft HQ. Though it's Sherlock's honour to ruin whatever Mycroft does, He knew tonight was different. Something was happening and Mycroft should not be disturbed. And he, Sherlock, should not get in the way. Which was why he would not...let's try the window.

The escape was considerably easy. Only his coat was now a bit dusty. Sherlock smirked. Mycroft, you were not even trying. He straightened his coat and walked through the garden towards the gate.

Surely, John Watson thought, something was going to happen taody. Greg's visit should be a clue, a sign to him - ready, steady, the battle is about to commence.

To be perfectly honest the thought that Sherlock was not dead was just an obsession. One he thought over and over so much that he accepted it as the truth. Then he proceeded to make theories about what really happened during the few hours he left Sherlock alone. Then he started writing those blog entries. Not really expecting something to happen. It was just one of those subconscious things that you feel you should do. He had rewired his mind so much that he wasn't that surprised when he saw that one comment. Only excitement. His heart hammered in his chest. Sherlock you idiot. Whatever danger it is we face it together, eh? Why wait? Let's ignite the explosions and get it out the way.

In fact he had his gun on him when Greg came for a quick visit. Took it out, checked it's still perfect the fisrt thing. He looked at the thing Greg slipped into his hand once he was relatively safe in his room. Two box of bullets for his gun. Fune then. Game on. John drew the curtains close, left enough open for him to peek out. He made himself a cup of tea and sat down in his armchair, ready to go.


	3. Chapter 3

 

John didn't know when he dozed off. A loud bang outside woke him up. He jumped to his feet and held his gun steadily in front of him.

It was dark in his room. Which was odd. The lamplight outside is usually quiet bright. John carefully moves to the side of the wall and feels for the light switch. It wouldn't turn on. The explosion, whatever the cause, must have cut the electricity in the area off.John debated in his head if he should go out and investigate what's going on. He could vaguely hear shouting, perhaps some blocks away. He felt in his pockets to make sure the bullets were still there and made for the door.

"Stay here. That's our part of the plan." A voice boomed from the corner of the room.

John jumped.Yhe gun in his hand instantly changed direction and fired at the direction of the voice.

"Blimey John. You could have shot me right dead." The coice said. The figure moved to the window and now John could see the shape of the man. But it's not like he didn't know who the man was alrady.

"Stay where you are." he said. His voice surprisingly calm nad smooth. His gun now pointing where he figured Sherlock's shoulder should be.

"John. You can shoot me later if you like. But we must not draw attention to ourselves now." Sherlock walked out of his corner and went to the window, parting the curtains apart a bit to look outside. John could hear his coat swish against the furniture as he walked. It's funny, from the moment Sherlock spoke, it instantly felt like he was the dominant one of this fucking place, and John was just this thing squeezed into the corner by his dgo and general presence. Not that John minded. He was a man that needed very little space. Too much room makes his density get dangerously bow. Sherlock's presence made him feel safe and warm and grumpy as his every cell was pressed back into their best position with a click.

"So what's going on out there? What's that explasion about?" Straight back to business eh? They can talk about other things later, maybe never. "I think it's Mycroft. And Lestrade." Sherlock said. His eyes glued to the window. "You think? Since when Sherlock?" It's just too good an opportunity to let pass. Oops. Sherlock didn't say anything for a while. John figured he's goign to ignore the question altogether. Or more possibly he's already somewhere else.

"Because I'm not sure." Sherlock said sudden'y. "Since...since I'm not here."

John was not expecting this reply. For a moment the awkward silence hung in the air. "but now that you are back," John said helpfully. Outside a siren screamed past. "That's what I'm not sure about." Sherlock said to the window glass.

There came a loud crash downstairs. They both jumped and turned to look at the the door. John's gunhand sprung up in one swift motion. "Back of the door." Sherlock whispered. It's too dark to communicate with gestures. John edges towards the door, willing the floor not to creak. There came footsteps on the stairs. Two people could be heard scrambling, werstling. Sherlock closed his eyes in the darkness to hear better. One of them was trying to get upstairs and the other is trying to pin the first down, to drag him back. "Keep in the shadows. Don't show yourself unless necessary." Sherlock said to John.His deep mumble barely audible over the noise outside. He quickly left the window himslef and slipped into a corner, too. "Shouldn't we go and help?" John aksed him from the other side of the room."You'd think Mycroft is dragging the assasin DOWN for a reason." Sherlock said. John felt the old familiar feeling of wanting to punch Sherlock in the face came back. Home sweet home.

A gun shot echoed in the hallway downstairs. Then there's sielnce. John counted to five, and dashed out from his hiding place to open the door. "No John!" Sherlock hissed. He lunged forward to stop him. John's hnad was already on the handle. He turned the handle nad-

Sherlock grabbed John's arm and kept it there. His other hand covered John's mouth to prevent him from saying anything to argue. The door was opened a tiny fraction. Sherlock kept his hand as still as hecan. One tiny swing, or worse, one creak from the door hinges, there's a high chance they'd all be dead in the next few minutes.

The pair kept this position for a long time, until both of them got cramps in their muscles. John very much wanted to comment on how weird they would look like if someone looked in now. Sherlock had some theory in his head and a couple of names put high on his murder list but he didn't want to take any risks.

After a small infinite. They heard shuffling sound outside again. A second later a hand pushed on the other side of the door. Then a slick voice came in through the creek. "No need to shoot，Doctor Watson. I'm sure that will not make my brother happy. However he might want to murder me in my sleep right now." Sherlock snorted, let go of John and stepped aside. John missed the intimacy of their bodies immediately. He's glad he had the darknss as his cover.

Mycroft pushed the flat door open nad stepped inside. He turned straight to John. "Haven't met you for a long time, John. I do apologize. Been kept busy by...you know, business. Oh and you'd want to put the gun down." John realized he was still pointing his gun at Mycroft's heart. He did as he was told. "Sorry about the darkness. I had the poiwer in the area cut. Don't want to draw attention-" "Oh, it's night. I can't turn on the lights. There's an area pitch dark in contrast with the whole city. There can't be anything going on. How logical." Sherlock cut in. He had already resumed his place in the room - sitting comfortably in his chair. "You are in enough trouble Sherlock Holmes. I suggest you keep your mouth shut." Mycroft said without glancing at his brother. "Really? I don't see any." Sherlock replied. "Didn't you count on me to keep John inside and out of trouble in your plan? You didn't leave anyone to look after him, Mycroft! If I wasn't here he's most likely to be caught in the cross-fire."

John very much wanted to say he's capable of survicing even if he got caught in an actual cross-fire. But he didn't want to get in the cross-fire between the Holmes brothers. Instead he said, "Boys...mind telling me what happened? Or happening?"

"And you had sorted that guy out some time before you appeared, didn't you?" Sherlock continued like John never spoke. John rolled his eyes and went to sit down as well. Good job he didn't bother to turn on the lights sometimes when he's alone at night. He knew where everything was. "Oh that. Greg said he wanted to make sceencaps. He's been helping a lot, Sherlock. Can't deny him that." "Or what? Did my brother-in-law threaten you with no sex?" "Surprisingly, Sherlcok. Love is not all about sex. I thought you knew that." John could almost hear electricity sizzling in the air. "I know it. But I'm not sure about you."  John suddenly realized what they  were talking about. He blushed furiously. But just at that moment the lights were on/ John quickly put his hand on his face , pretending to shield his eyes from the light.

"John, are you alright?" Hojhn felt hands on his arm and cheek. "Mycroft what have you done do you not know sudden exposure to bright light after a long period of darkness-" "It's okay, SHerlock. Really it's okay, just an instinctive thing." John tried to put his arm down. But Sherlock held it firmly in place. "No, you don't do this before." "Yes, maybe I've changed." John snapped. He didn't mean to but he just did. And he forced his arm down a little too hard. And awkward silence. "I'm sorry." Sherlock said finally. He was kneeling in front of John. Mycroft remained standing by the door, looking down at the two, his face blank. "I assumed you have a reason." John said. He was aware he sounded accusing." "It doesn't matter now. The reason no longer exists." Sherlock looked over at Mycroft, who nodded. He looked back into John's eyes. "They made a move tonight after this morning. They - the remaining of them saw my comment on your blog. So Mycroft thought it would be a golden opportunity to end it once and for all. But they wanted you. They wanted to use you to get me. So Mycroft thought it'd make the job easier if he can get you safe out of the way. So he drugged you and put tons of security force around here. And he didn't try to stop me from sneaking out and look after you. Am I right, Mycroft?" "As ever." Mycroft said. John looked from one Holmes brother to the other. "If you don't mind, Doctor Watson, they are both being so out of character its a bit alarming. "If you don't mind, Doctor Watson. Apologies." Mycroft said. There he goes. The bastard always knew what to say at the right time. Diplomats. John cursed in his mind. But he's grateful this was not going to go though the whole process of blood and tears or worse, awkward politeness for a long time, by the looks of things. "If it's not too much trouble, do you mind my brother staying here? I have plans for what remainds of tonight and don't think it's appropriate to be overheard by my little brother." Sherlock threw him a disgusting dark look. "It's okay , I don't mind." John said with a smile. He patted a still kneeling Sherlock on the head. "I'll keep this one."

"What? I'm not a thing!" Sherlock brought himself to full height. John simply glanced up at him. That is a bit intimidating. But he's not gonna admit that. "You are in enough trouble Sherlock." John Watson said. "See you around, Mycroft."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first chapter Christmas 2012 as a one-shot but was encouraged to continue. According to my LJ notes it was inspired by http://sherlockshiverandshake.tumblr.com/post/20020040141 The link no longer works and I can't remember what it was anymore. If it was your post thank you for the inspiration.  
> The final chapter was finished Valentine's day 2013


End file.
